antebellum [t. riddle]

i.

october 1944

The city of New York was one of innumerable contradictions. 

Sicaria loved the city; not for its beautiful tourist locations and mile-high skyscrapers, but for the dirty, imbecile-filled, impatient parts. All of the appeal, in her opinion, stemmed from the terrible parts. New York was less of a place and more of a person in her eyes. It was two-faced; so brilliant in the eyes of travelers, but repulsive to the natives. The side one saw of the city could change in a matter of seconds, all depending on what street corner one turned on. She could stand on one block, where someone would sell her any dug she could think of, but then turn a corner to see a rehabilitation center. 

Truly mercurial. 

This city was also home to the building she most hated in the world. Magical Congress of the United States of America headquarters. Her mood darkened at the thought of it; there were absolutely no happy memories connected to that place. MACUSA was like an ever-present dementor, except it was part of her person, sucking away portions of herself. Negativity radiated around it, and the only thing she could ever feel was contempt and misery every time it crossed her mind.

And yet— she'd give anything to be back there.

In the present moment, she was resting in the bedroom of a small motel in a village called Hogsmeade, thousands of miles away from New York. One part sad to be away from the city she loved, but also happy to be far from MACUSA, even though they were, quite literally, branded into her very skin and always lingering in her mind.

She had arrived in Britain only a few hours ago. After taking a portkey from New York to London, and from there, apparating to the inn they directed her to go to, she spent the rest of her evening doing absolutely nothing. Wasting time. In the early hours of the morning, she would be escorted from the village to the Hogwarts castle by Albus Dumbledore. She tapped her fingers on the termite-eaten wooden desk as she let her mind tiptoe back to her introduction to him. 

As promised, Barry Campbell was there to introduce her to the eccentric wizard she had heard too much, yet too little about. Campbell seemed to be bouncing off the walls with both nervousness and excitement as his eyes quickly darted between the young witch and the older wizard. He gave something resembling a sigh of relief when they shook hands.

"it is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Edwards," Dumbledore said to her upon her arrival. 

She considered him for a second before speaking. He did not seem offended by her hesitation. "I have heard some interesting rumors about you, Mr. Dumbledore. The wizard that the world seems to loathe, yet still relies on."

He gave a tinkling laugh, eyes glimmering. "A very astute observation."

"Tell me, Mr. Dumbledore," she started, leaning against the opposite wall as she scrutinized him. "Why is it that you're meant to be the most powerful wizard in the world, and yet you've been chosen to play chaperone to me?"

"Fate has an interesting way of connecting people, Miss Edwards." That wasn't a real answer, but she realized that pressing him for one would likely get her nowhere. He was smart enough to see through any interrogation techniques she might have tried next, so she settled for the vague riddle. 

There was nothing farther she could discern about the elusive Albus Dumbledore. She'd heard the rumors of him being a brilliant manipulator; she would have to remember to keep her guard up.

Sicaria eyed the clock on the small desk in her room. 1:32 a.m. She sighed, standing up from the bed and pacing again. The damp air in the room seemed to be clogging her sinuses, and the smell of rotting wood and old dust did nothing to help the stickiness she felt from being in the room. She did several cleaning spells but none of them seemed to work; as if the grimy room was magically cursed to say that way. It wasn't even raining, and yet she could feel nothing but the moldy-feeling humidity encircling her lungs.